The Evil Tide
by Tharen Dul
Summary: An orc horde comes to destroy city. Now a group of unlikely friends must fight off the horde. UPDATED!


The Evil Tide

The two opponents faced each other, swords drawn. Both had on black armor. They were the most skilled warriors in the region. One was an elf. Tall and lean he was. He had a light complexion. His hair was as golden as the sun, while his eyes were fiery red. No one had ever beaten him.

His prey that he was hunting, or so he thought, was a dark elf. His white hair shown out from his dark skin. His white eyes could burn a hole in one's soul. He was a little shorter of the two, but not a lot.

Suddenly, the elf charged, swords leading the way. He went low, but the drow easily jumped over the swords. He then brought his swords down toward the elf's head, but the blades interlocked with his opponent's. Both jumped back into defensive positions. The drow somersaulted to the elf, swinging at his arms. He only hit air. The elf ducked but attacked near the middle. Quickly working his arms, the elf slowly went up. The drow blocked easily. Then the elf quickly did a double low thrust, but the drow had expected this. He crossed his swords over the elf's swords. The drow kicked the elf in the face and did an uppercut, chopping off the elf's head.

The body stood for a second, then collapsed. Tharen Dul, the drow, looked at the body, feeling sorry for the elf. Finally, he turned and ran toward the south.

"Looks like yer slowing," said a dwarf.

"No, yer getting too drunk," replied another.

They were in the tavern, The Green Boat. The tavern had a small reputation in the Realms. It was about five centuries old and still looking good. The two dwarfs, Ivan a Daga Gutbuster, were having a drinking contest with dwarven ale, again. Being brothers, they always wanted to prove to be the better. They really drew a crowd because both had over one hundred fifty shots and were still going.

Ivan had a dark beard. He also had beady eyes, a two-horned helmet, and a great ax. Daga had bright blue eyes and a ruddy beard. He had a mithril helmet and a war hammer. Many called them the toughest dwarves in all of Britannia.

Even though either wanted to admit it, they were both drunk, and almost out of steam. Finally, at two hundred ten shots, they called it a draw. Everyone clapped because no one had ever gotten that many shots in one sitting, or that drunk. However, they collapsed immediately. Several other dwarves went to help them, but they pushed the help away. Ivan and Daga were not going to be helped out that easily.

Bria Bones and Wulgar Battlestriker raced through the city of Luststar. Rouges were on their tails. Bria was a beautiful, tall woman with green eyes and long brown hair. However, she was a thief and killer. She was wanted in seven regions for mass murder. Bria always carried a rapier, several daggers, and a long bow.

Wulgar was a barbarian with incredible height. He stood six feet nine inches, and was very muscular. He had long golden hair and hazel eyes. Wulgar was also wanted in several regions for mass murder. He carried a mighty great sword that was said could smash the toughest metal. Bria and Wulgar had worked together for as long as they could remember.

Their new crime, robbing a guild master's jewels, was a little too big. This time, the henchmen got there before they could steal everything.

"Down the alley," said Bria.

They made a sudden turn into a dark alley. The rouges followed them in. Suddenly, the first rouge's head was cut in two. Then the second and third were stabbed with two daggers. The forth one was cut across the torso. The fifth and sixth were smashed against the wall, and the seventh and eighth ran for there lives.

Wulgar began to follow, but Bria held him back.

"Let them go," she said.

"Why, I want their heads," replied Wulgar.

"Do not worry my friend. There will be more to kill later."

"I hope so. I am not even warmed up."

". . . and that is how it happened. The end."

The Elvin elder of Faradorn closed the book and looked at the young ones. All were fast asleep. He chuckled and looked at his wife how was smiling as well.

"You better get to bed, dear," he said.

"Oh, and what are you going to do?" she asked.

"I am going to take the magic herbs. Then I will also go to sleep," he replied.

"Very well, I will go to bed them. Good night."

Ramirez Foxx watched his wife go to bed. Slowly and quietly, he moved to an old box. He lifted the top to show fine armor and a beautiful sword and dagger. He took the sword and dagger from their sheathes. Then Ramirez did a sword dance that few ever mastered. It involved master angles that so many thought impossible. In his younger days, Ramirez perfected this dance and had some scars to show for it.

When Ramirez finished, he put the swords away. As he looked up, he was startled to see that his wife saw the whole thing.

"I thought you said that you were going to bed," he said.

"I thought that you said that you would get the magical herbs," she replied.

"I . . . I just can not keep the warrior out of me. It was my life, is my life, and will always be until the day I die."

"I know that. You still take my breath away every time you do that dance. It is your trademark technique. Without it, you seem to be nothing."

"I am glad that you understand. Come, since we are awake, let us sing old songs of the past,

The group of orcs and goblins ran over the hill. They just came from a victory at a village in the north. They were now heading for the city of Faradorn. The leader of the clan was named Batuk Tren, an ugly orc, even by orc standards. He was tall and had big muscles. His armor was black and was jagged. He also had a great sword that would shock any opponents that it met. However, he lost his left eye to Gruumsh, the orc god. Also, he had his face mauled by a warg during his childhood. Finally, his left arm was magical metal because he lost his arm to a troll.

Batuk smiled, thinking of all the people that were going to die. If anyone knew Batuk, they knew that he like nothing more than to kill. By the time Batuk was eight, he had already killed fifteen humans, twelve elves, seventeen dwarves, and thirty orcs. He quickly moved up in the ranks of an orc army. Soon, he commanded an army of one hundred thousand orcs. So far, he had destroyed eighteen villages and cities. Many orcs looked up to Batuk almost like a god. This made Batuk more eager to get to Faradorn.

He sounded a horn for double march. Immediately, the orcs moved faster, Batuk leading the way.

Tharen Dul looked over Faradorn. It was a fortified city that had about seventy-five thousand residents. It was very beautiful at this time of night. I was one of the major cities in the Realms. It had defended against many goblin and orc raids in the past. After each raid, the city invented some new trap for the smelly beast. The city had never before been captured for any army.

Tharen ran down to one of the heavy walls. Quickly, he scaled the wall using the handholds. When he got to the top, there were some guards on the wall. However, the skilled drow got into the shadows, unnoticed. Tharen crept down some stairs and got to the bottom streets.

He found an inn which he could stay and registered. He kept his hood over his face do no one would recognize his heritage. He was assigned a room and quickly went up there. Tharen sat on his bed and waited for sleep to over take him.


End file.
